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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356125">Meow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apsacta/pseuds/Apsacta'>Apsacta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twosetviolin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, furry fetish, i'm not even sorry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:28:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apsacta/pseuds/Apsacta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ha, why would anyone... hnnng... nice... uh... nice ears... looks good... the drawing, I mean... good skills,” Eddy lets out a strangled chuckle, “forty hours of practice... most talented subreddit ever.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddy Chen/Brett Yang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Meow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yeah, read tags</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It starts with a post on LingLing 40 hours. Nothing much, really. But, well, it’s Eddy. With the years, Brett has learned how he works, what makes him tick. So, yeah...</p><p>The post on LingLing 40 hours is pretty harmless altogether. Just a drawing of Eddy, pretty realistic, all the way from his current haircut down to the mismatched eyelids. It’s a nice artwork, too. Looks like him. Except that there are cat ears on top of his head, blending with his hair like they were always supposed to be there. Soft.</p><p>“Ha, why would anyone... hnnng... nice... uh... nice ears... looks good... the drawing, I mean... good skills,” Eddy lets out a strangled chuckle, “forty hours of practice... most talented subreddit ever.”</p><p>He trips on his words, saves it last minute by praising the drawing, pretends that he was just surprised. But Brett knows him. He can see the red going down Eddy’s neck when he pulls back, the strain in his shoulders, ten years old familiar tension in his back. Brett is ready to bet that Eddy’s palms are getting sweaty, too.</p><p>Brett knows him too well. Fourteen years. God, half of his life already. It’s sudden, then, the memory. Eddy, ten years younger, red up to his ears, looking at the ground.</p><p>“Hey, Brett, uh... listen, can I ask... is it – is it weird that I sometimes think about – about,” he mumbled something, then, and Brett barely caught the word furry in there, and he had to bite his lips not to laugh at Eddy’s embarrassment, but Eddy continued, his entire face turned crimson, “sometimes. Like, not always, like... am I weird? Yeah, I’m weird, sorry, please forget this.”</p><p>Brett scrunches up his nose at the memory, half fond. Eddy used to be so... He hasn’t changed much, deep down, even if he doesn’t come to Brett with this stuff anymore. But residual embarrassment that lingers when he speaks next, ending the recording, tells everything. Viewers won’t be able to tell, Eddy’s good at that, at least, but not enough to fool Brett. The cat ears really did a number on him.</p><p>Hard to hold back, now. Like then. Brett wants to tease him about it, when they turn off the camera, but Eddy flees to the kitchen, shouts something about bubble tea, goes to hide... well, whatever he thinks he has to hide. Brett remembers that first time, too, Eddy’s redness almost endearing, difficult, though, to swallow his want to say ‘<em> I knew it! I knew you’d have weird kinks like that. </em>’ Eddy’s too easy to tease.</p><p>So it comes to this.</p><p>Eddy’s still thinking about it. Brett can tell. He can tell by the way he catches him staring at his phone sometimes, and he knows that Eddy has gone back to look at the drawing at least once, probably more. He can tell by the way Eddy looks at his own reflection in the mirror, can tell by the way he distractedly pets the cushion on the couch sometimes, can tell by a thousand little things that Eddy does. </p><p>More worryingly, he can tell by the way Eddy looks at Brett. Brett has gotten a new haircut, and it’s recent enough that he still needs to run his fingers through his hair sometimes, to assess the changes. And when he does that, well. Eddy looks.</p><p>The point is, it’s still in Eddy’s head, and by the process of communicating vessels, it gets in Brett’s head as well.</p><p>Maybe it’s because they’re together all the time, now. It’s different from before, from when Eddy came to him after he’d mulled things over in his head an unhealthy amount of time, ‘<em> please tell me I’m not weird’ </em> on the tip of his tongue. Eddy’s not weird. If anything, Brett’s always thought most of these things were quite tame, in the grand scheme of things. But it was way funnier to still tease Eddy about it, anyway. ‘ <em> Hey, Eddy, how’s your furry phase going?’ </em></p><p>Now Brett knows Eddy better, knows what to look for, and he couldn’t look away, even if he tried. So Eddy thinks about cat ears, and thus Brett thinks about it too. It makes it weird, somehow, that he tries to imagine what Eddy sees in that. The drawing has been buried in the avalanche of new posts on the subreddit, so Brett’s left to his imagination. And imagining Eddy with cat ears is weird. Cute, maybe, but yeah. It doesn’t quite do it for Brett.</p><p>It’s not new, to open google in a private tab at night and start looking up stuff, familiar sense of déjà vu. Brett is no stranger to trying to figure out what makes Eddy tick – Eddy’s very easy to tease, after all.</p><p>Brett finds the cat ears in a costume shop.</p><p>He’s not quite sure what pushed him in there, exactly. Maybe some perverse desire to tease Eddy like he used to. Like when they were younger. </p><p>It’s not... Brett’s not ashamed of much, really. Like, in the grand story of everything, what does it matter, that Eddy’s worried he might be into wanking while wearing cat ears or whatever? What does it matter that Brett’s definitely pushing him along the way? Let Eddy try stuff. Brett isn’t going to be the one to judge him. He wouldn’t have the right. He’s tried stuff too, after all. </p><p>The fact that he spends a significant amount of time looking at the ‘sexy cat’ costume on the shelf is maybe a little worrying. Not in itself. But the fact that he has to shake himself out of trying to picture whether Eddy would be into that... no. </p><p>So, cat ears it is. </p><p>He stops for bubble tea on the way home, cat ears safely in a plastic bag and a smirk already on his face. Eddy’s practicing his Sibelius, when Brett comes in, painful concentration on his face. Brett pauses to listen for a while, until Eddy notices and stops. He looks at Brett for something, though Brett doesn’t quite know what. </p><p>“Here, got something for you,” he says, and tosses him the plastic bag. “Happy birthday.” </p><p>“It’s not my…” Eddy begins, looks into the bag, turns a violent shade of red. Pretty. </p><p>“For you,” Brett says, smug. “Tell me how it goes.” </p><p>Eddy bites his lips so much that Brett fears he’ll bleed. </p><p>The cat ears stay on the table, in their bag, for a week. Brett sees them everyday and begins to think it was a mistake to get them. Then one day the bag is gone, and none of them say a thing about it. </p><p>And Brett sort of… waits. He doesn’t know why he’s so invested in this. </p><p>He’ll break and ask, if Eddy doesn’t say anything, Brett thinks. It’s, yeah, a lot to unpack there. </p><p>He doesn’t have to, because one day he finds Eddy on the couch, with the cat headband in his hands. Part of Brett kind of wants to go, ‘ah ha!’ in triumph. The rest of him wants to retreat into his bedroom immediately and pretend it never happened. </p><p>So, naturally, he goes, “ah ha, you <em> are </em>into this!”, and Eddy looks up quickly, drops the headband, and looks back down. </p><p>“Bro,” he mutters, “don’t, I’m not, I don’t… uh… I don’t think I’m doing this right,” he says, looking at the ground.</p><p>“Ok, show me,” Brett says, before his brain can stop his mouth. Tremendously bad idea, but it’s too late already, and once Brett starts something, he sees it through. </p><p>“I don’t, it’s not,” Eddy protests vaguely. He does pick up the ears, though. Puts them on his head, uncomfortable.</p><p>“And then what?” Brett eggs him on, and Eddy turns red.</p><p>“And then that’s it,” he mumbles, looking away. Which, come on… no way <em> that’s </em> it, right? </p><p>“Bro, you call that a cat?” he asks, and takes the cat ears from Eddy. </p><p>It’s probably a mistake. Or not. Because he sees Eddy swallow. Hard. </p><p>The moment he puts them on his head, he knows that there’s no going back. It’s too much. He can see it in Eddy’s eyes, how they widen with some sort of desperation, badly concealed desire of… <em> something. </em>Panic. And maybe Brett enjoys torturing him, because he pushes himself forward, won’t stop there, even if he should. He’s stubborn like that. </p><p>“Bro,” Brett says, shaking his head. He should take them off, and it would all be over. They’d have a good laugh about it. He’d tease Eddy about his weird kinks like when they were eighteen, and then nothing. He keeps them. </p><p>Eddy’s jaw is so tense that Brett’s almost scared that he’ll break something. Jesus. </p><p>“This is better?” he asks, and Eddy tries to nod and barely succeeds. Brett’s pretty sure that he’s just paralyzed him. </p><p>He must be crazy, then, because.</p><p>“Meow.” </p><p>“Dude,” Eddy says. Whiny. Not his usual voice. And Brett tilts his head to the side. He thinks they’re both out of their fucking minds. But Eddy’s eyes… Well, maybe. </p><p>“You like that.” </p><p>It’s not even a question. There’s little doubt about what exactly this does to Eddy. Brett can almost see how tight his chest feels. It’s subtle, but the way his shoulders pull back, the tensing in his throat, the trembling in his pinky. Brett sees it all. </p><p>He shouldn’t push. </p><p>“C’mon,” he says, lowering his head, ears pointed towards Eddy, “pet the ears.” </p><p>The sound that comes out of Eddy startles them both, a throaty little whine, like he’s holding himself back. It kind of pains Brett, somewhere inside his chest, to repress a chuckle.</p><p>“C’mon, pet the ears. You know you want to.” </p><p>He doesn’t really expect Eddy to do it, so it surprises him as much as it surprises Eddy, when he touches them with the tip of his fingers. </p><p>“So soft,” Eddy murmurs, fingers mindlessly running against the fur, and his voice is so strained that Brett almost feels bad for him. He pushes into Eddy’s hand because, well, because no reason at all, but Eddy’s fingers drift from the ears, scratch at Brett’s scalp, and that… Well, maybe. </p><p>“Brett,” Eddy says, under his breath, breathing shallow. “Brett, stop.” </p><p>It clicks in Brett’s mind before it does in Eddy’s, probably. Eddy doesn’t want to wear cat ears. Eddy wants people who wear cat ears, and more specifically, Eddy wants Brett to wear cat ears. It makes sense, then, Eddy’s side glances, his looks, the way he’d stare at Brett running his fingers through his hair. </p><p>“Why?” Brett asks, curious. He looks down, fights a smirk. “Clearly you’re into it.” </p><p>“I don’t... you don’t have to… it’s...”</p><p>It’s illegal, Brett wants to finish, how much flushed cheeks suit Eddy. He’d never really realised before, but the flushed cheeks and the shallow breathing… it’s not a bad look. </p><p>He sighs. Nudges Eddy’s hand with his head. </p><p>“So, you really want me to stop?” </p><p>Eddy whines low, looks away. “No…” </p><p>“Pet me. C’mon. Pet me.” </p><p>It’s not the most comfortable, leaning into Eddy’s hand when he’s still sitting on the couch like that, so Brett doesn’t really think before he does it. His back and neck are starting to hurt and he wants... Well, the jury’s still out on what he wants, but, yeah, it’s not comfortable, so he pushes Eddy a little, palms against his shoulders, makes space for himself, space to come forward and straddle one of Eddy’s thighs, his knee pushing them apart. </p><p>Eddy’s entire body goes tense, so Brett nudges him with his head again, <em> pet me, meow, </em>until Eddy relaxes, brushes his fingers against the cat ears again, strokes Brett’s hair a little. It’s rather nice, a bit like a head massage. Except that it’s satisfying Eddy’s weird fetish, but that, well, yeah. </p><p>“Kitten,” Eddy mumbles, and then his eyes widen, caught, and he stutters, “so-sorry.” </p><p>“Hmm, more pets.” </p><p>Some divine inspiration or some shit strikes Brett, and he pushes his head under Eddy’s jaw, rubs the cat ears against his cheeks. He’s pretty sure Eddy stops breathing entirely at that point, which is… oddly satisfying. So, he reaches up, then, and licks at the juncture of Eddy’s jaw and neck. Which, objectively, is kinda gross. Brett isn’t really a fan of his tongue touching other people’s skin, but. But it’s Eddy. And. And he catches a glimpse of himself, reflected in the dark window. Of them. And that. Maybe. Maybe that kind of does it, for him, to be honest. </p><p>What does it even more are the noises in the back of Eddy’s throat. </p><p>“Fuck,” Eddy mutters, head thrown back and eyes closed, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” </p><p>His fingers stray away from the cat ears, clumsy and uncoordinated, against Brett’s temple and along his cheeks, petting turning feverish at his jaw and at the corner of his mouth. Brett doesn’t think Eddy’s even fully aware of what he’s doing anymore. So he turns his head, pokes his tongue out against Eddy’s fingers, and Eddy’s eyes fly open with a sharp intake of breath. And, yes, that’s… yes. Brett can see the appeal, now. </p><p>He pokes his tongue out again, licks at one of Eddy’s fingers, gross, gross but he can’t be bothered now, closes his lips around it. </p><p>“Brett, Brett, Brett,” Eddy whimpers. Hot, decidedly hot. His free hand pets at Brett’s shoulders, his back, and up in his hair again. He keeps doing it for as long as Brett’s sucking on his finger, getting more and more desperate. </p><p>Brett takes pity on him, eventually, lets go of his finger with a pop that gets a startled chuckle out of both of them. Eddy’s face though, once the chuckle fades out… he definitely could get used to that. He doesn’t even have to press the palm of his hand against Eddy’s dick to know that he’s hard, but does it anyway.</p><p>“I knew you’d have weird kinks like that,” he whispers, rubbing his face against Eddy’s neck. “I knew it.” </p><p>
  <br/>
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</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Like I said, not even sorry.<br/>Thanks for reading. You were warned.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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